


Mon Cher Coeur

by Cur_Non



Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, French History RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: All I write is porn apparently, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, F/M, He's been away a long time, Lafayette hates going to French court, Lafayette is an adorable sweetheart, Teasing, Tired of waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5965747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cur_Non/pseuds/Cur_Non
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1779.  “God, I don’t want you to stop,” he whispered, his voice tinged with regret. “But we’re nearly there.”<br/>Adrienne pulled away and he felt a shadow of the familiar little ache in his heart that he always felt when they separated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mon Cher Coeur

“We’re expected at court,” she said. His lips were against her neck, kissing and biting at the skin beneath several strands of pearls.

“I don’t care,” he said. Her skin held the slightest hint of roses, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Court was never a priority—his ambition never allowed him time to dawdle there, and the endless balls and charades and protocol were dulling on his senses. He didn’t have the patience for the endless trends and proclamations, save ones that were necessary for his advancement.

“My father will be displeased.”

“He’s always displeased with me.”

There wasn’t bitterness in the way he said it, but she frowned all the same. “He loves you,” she said. And then, “mind you don’t damage my pearls.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.” His hands slid up her stockinged legs, and his breath was hot against her throat.

“They’ll be here any second,” she said breathlessly as his fingers found the tops of her thighs and pressed against the heat between. “Gilbert, please—“

“Please what?” he asked. He was grinning, so obviously pleased with himself. Her words flattered his vanity. “Do you want me to stop, or continue?” He kissed her red mouth. “I want to continue. But I will of course desist if that is what my lady truly wishes.” His deft fingers had found the split in her undergarments and he touched her lightly, almost hesitantly, as he waited for her reply.

She was wet already. Hot and slick and his knees felt weak.

“Adrienne,” he whispered, his mouth against her ear, all teasing for the moment gone. He pressed his cheek to hers—his for the moment; his forever.

“Don’t go,” she said at last.

“Never,” he said, and slid a finger into her. But it was he that let out a little moan as her body moved against him, her legs spreading and opening for him, just him.

“Adrienne,” he said again, and she kissed him, her arms sliding under his jacket and feeling the firmness of his chest.

Then a knock at the door. “The carriage is downstairs, Madame.”

“God damn the carriage,” Lafayette hissed.

“You don’t meant that—he doesn’t mean that,” Adrienne said, her head tipped up towards the ceiling.

It was a hint of the religious piousness he disagreed with. A life surrounded by so much death had done much to convince him against any true belief in a higher power. He pulled away from her.

“Are you sure you still want to go?” he asked, one last time. He knew what the answer would be, from such an obedient and dutiful and considerate wife. But he asked just the same, ever hopeful.

“We should at least make an appearance,” Adrienne said, straightening her stockings and letting Lafayette help down from the desk. She shook out her skirts.

“We said we would go and they’re expecting us. You wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“I might not mind so much if I were here with you instead,” he said.

“Madame? The carriage?”

“Coming,” Adrienne called. She reapplied a bit of rouge to her lips. “I suppose he doesn’t know you’re here.”

“I tried to sneak in undetected,” Lafayette admitted. He wiped his hands on his handkerchief.

Adrienne went to the door. “Are we to be leaving presently?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Very well. Come, Monsieur.”

Lafayette, cowed that she had not waited for him to open the door for her, followed.

 

“They have balls every week, can’t we just go to a different one?”

“You won’t be here for the one next week. You’re wanted in Metz.”

“I know, but—ow—“ Lafayette said as he hit his head against the carriage door. “Why must parties always happen at night? Why always in darkness?”

Adrienne—already seated inside—patted the seat beside her. “You should be in a better mood. They will all be fawning over you.”

“I’m still not used to that,” Lafayette said as he sat besides her. “It wasn’t long ago that my presence had the opposite reaction.”

Adrienne placed her hand over his. “I’m sure with all the adoration you won’t want to leave.”

Lafayette took her hand and kissed it. “And if I do?”

“Then we’ll tell them you are not well, and we’ll go.”

“You are an angel.”

They rode in silence for awhile, Adrienne watching the way the modern streetlights lit up the night. Her hand slid over his thigh and he spread his legs instinctively.

She was still looking out the window.

“You really don’t mind,” he said, sliding closer to her, “if we leave—early?” He bent to kiss her cheek.

“No,” she said, still not looking at him. It was a warm night for that time of year. Her hand tightened on his thigh.

“I want to kiss you,” he said softly, tipping her face up towards his.

“Don’t—my rouge,” she said, lifting her chin away from him. Her hand slid up his leg and stopped just shy of touching him between.

“Adrienne—“ he let out her name in a frustrated hiss. “Please let me kiss you at least.”

She glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Then when we get out, everyone will know.”

“Maybe I don’t care if everyone knows.”

“You do care.”

Lafayette sighed. “You’re right, I do.”

“But you miss me.”

“I do miss you.” He took her hand and kissed it. And then her wrist. And her forearm.

“Gilbert—“

“You didn’t put rouge or powder on your wrists. I can kiss them, can’t I?”

“You’re insatiable.”

“I spent two years apart from you, I think I’m entitled to be so.”

“Two years too long,” Adrienne said softly. She made to pull her arm away but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her swiftly to him.

“I won’t kiss you, or mess up your hair or your rouge or your powder,” he said, his voice not more than a whisper. “But let me be close to you at least. I’ve missed you so.”

This she allowed, and he pulled her to him until she was practically in his lap.

“You know, in the Orient,” she said in that same breathless voice she had used back in the chateau, “they don’t kiss—they just touch. They just breathe.” She let her hand slide once again between his legs and touched him, lightly, but enough to get him to tip his hips towards her.

“They just breathe, huh?” he said, his voice sounding hoarse.

“And touch,” she whispered, moving her hand over him. They were inches apart.

“And touch,” Lafayette echoed. He—already hard from their encounter earlier and their closeness at present—wanted her to touch him more directly, to make up for some of the time they couldn’t make up. But the streetlights were getting closer and closer together, and there loomed Versailles in the distance.

“God, I don’t want you to stop,” he whispered, his voice tinged with regret. “But we’re nearly there.”

Adrienne pulled away and he felt a shadow of the familiar little ache in his heart that he always felt when they separated.

He took her hand again and watched as they rode towards the golden palace. She, noticing the way in which he took her hand—fingers entwined and held tight—leaned into his shoulder.

“Hey,” she said softly. “It’s all right.”

“I know,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the palace.

 

He hardly glanced at her once they had exited the carriage. She entered before him, as was customary, and they were escorted by numerous doormen through polished and tapestried doors of varying colors—pink, yellow, blue. The final door they entered was a shining, shimmering tapestry of silver and gold ferns. The interior walls had been draped to match, and everywhere there were endless displays of glittering feathers and bubbling champagne and elaborate, fanciful desserts. They made their introductions, and Adrienne couldn’t help but smile as they complimented her husband on his wartime achievements.

Lafayette smiled too, and bowed with a grace he had not yet developed the last time he had been at court.

“You go and speak with your friends,” Adrienne told him after they had stepped away from the king and queen. “Just come and find me when you want to leave.”

“It won’t be long,” he insisted.

She knew he was lying. For the rest of the evening he would not speak to her. They would rotate in different orbits, speaking to different people at different times, because a happy marriage was not something to be lauded in this court—it was something to be mocked. Once, he let his hand brush against hers, but he was scanning the room, looking for someone. It may have been an accident that he touched her at all.

Adrienne found a little corner to tuck herself into, and let people surround him, let women surround him, let him drift away from her. It would not be seemly for her to cling to him as she was wont to do—no, she would let other women do that, other women who had nothing to protect, other women who could not possibly win his heart in the few minutes they would have on his arm. But still, though she knew, she had no desire to see, and so she painted herself into the tapestries, and let the world spin around him alone. She sipped champagne from a long-stemmed saucer and watched him smile, gesture, and laugh. They had always been welcomed at court but never had he drawn so much attention from other courtiers—they practically swarmed around him, wanting to hear of his adventures in America, the youngest and most capable of Major Generals, the only one at the ball who had actually fought in war, who had seen death and defeated it. Men and women alike fawned on him, and Lafayette—who they had formally sneered at as no more than a provincial and low-born noble—was now the most accomplished and esteemed man in his generation. And at only twenty-two!

Adrienne couldn’t let herself think too hard about his achievements and what they meant for France and the Free World. To dwell upon them was to recognize greatness, and how could she look her husband in the eye after seeing him become practically a god?

Lafayette was the talk of the evening. He could not move without creating a ripple, and he was not once without someone to talk to. In fact, it was usually many, a half dozen or so interested courtiers and ladies, all eager to hear him talk of liberation in America.

And there was nothing else he delighted in. America had given him enormous responsibilities, and his enthusiasm had not been dampened.

“He’s quite something, isn’t he?”

“Sorry,” Adrienne turned away from Lafayette to the speaker. It was the Comtesse de Simiane. “Adélaide,” she smiled. “I hope you’ve been well.”

The Comtesse de Simiane smiled. She was easily one of the most beautiful women at court, perhaps even more so than the Duchesse du Polignac, with her bright blue eyes and her light hair, which she had powdered to a pinkish color for the evening. She had married a husband who was completely disinterested in her—even now, he was opposite the room engaged in a private conversation with another courtier.

“As well as one can be,” she said with a shrug. “Your husband brings life back into court.”

“He does,” Adrienne agreed. “He’s been very well received.” They both looked at the Marquis de Lafayette, who was still surrounded by a bevy of admirers and telling some rather animated anecdote.

“Truthfully, I envy you,” Adelaide said, and then laughed. “Well, I’m sure most ladies envy you now. But how blessed you must feel, to be married to a hero!”

Adrienne blushed and tipped the last of her champagne into her mouth.

“I just hope I can fulfill his expectations,” she said at last.

And then, from across the room, a look. He was drowning in accolades, drowning in praise.

“You shouldn’t worry,” Adelaide said, noticing the look between them. “I don’t think any woman could ever replace you.”

 

“Admit it—you enjoyed yourself.”

“I was—it was better than last time,” he conceded. “But I’m not saying I’d like to make it a regular event.”

Their carriage had just left the palace. Adrienne leaned her head against his shoulder.

“You’re drunk,” he teased her.

“I’m not! I had two glasses,” she insisted. “Or was it three?”

“Did you miss me? I couldn’t find you.”

“You were carried away by the crowd—I hardly moved.”

He took her hand and held it in his lap. He was still excited, still restless, as if they were headed for some grand event rather than away from it.

“I would carry you in if you weren’t wearing such a big skirt,” he said as the footmen opened the carriage door.

“I’m quite capable of walking,” Adrienne replied. Lafayette held out his hand to help her down.

“I know you are. I just would have done it.”

“You are positively gleeful.”

“I had a night that far exceeded my expectations.”

 

Upstairs and finally alone, Lafayette yawned. Adrienne put her pearls away in her jewelry box and took the single powder-blue ostrich feather from her hair.

He came up behind her.

“Take off your pannier,” he told her, his hands looping around her waist. “Or let me do it.”

She let him, gave a little tremble as he knelt on the floor and lifted up the hem of her skirts. His hands again found her legs, slipped between her thighs, and travelled up, up—but he did not touch her sex, just let his hands travel up across her hips, and found the buttons at her waist that held the pannier tight. Her eyes fluttered open as he unhooked her—she hadn’t realized they’d been closed. He’d been looking at her, studying her face for a response, and his eyes were dark and his face serious. She looked away—couldn’t bring herself to match that intensity, that fire in his eyes. He pulled the pannier free from her dress and slid it across the room.

“Do you want to change for bed?” She asked him softly.

“No,” he said. “I want to seduce you.”

She had to fight the urge to laugh. Not once had they ever had an opposing opinion. The idea that she could ever need seducing was absurd. She would go to the ends of the earth for him on the slightest errand.

“Seduce me?”

“You are so pious, so good, so wonderfully angelic,” he said, “I can’t help it—I want to corrupt you.”

She wondered, with just the barest hint of jealousy, if this was a game he played with his other lovers.

“I don’t want to offend you,” he went on, still kneeling on the floor. “I just want to prove how much I missed you.”

“If you think I do not love you enough you should blame God for giving me such earthly limitations,” she replied softly. “I feel I love you more with every moment. I—“ she stopped herself. It would not do to rhapsodize.

“So let me match you,” he replied. There was hunger in his eyes.

“Gilbert—“

He continued, “I could spend a lifetime with you and it still wouldn’t seem like enough. And I spent what felt like a lifetime apart from you—“ his hands fumbled at her skirts, but he held her gaze, “—and I don’t think I can waste another second on doubts and flimsy apologies when I can’t get that time back. So please,” he went on, finding her legs again through the many petticoats, “let me apologize.”

“There’s no need—“ Adrienne started to say, but Lafayette had found the slit in her bloomers and touched her with just the barest of caresses.

When her voice broke, the corners of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile but was afraid of doing so, and Adrienne blushed and brought her hand to her lips.

Lafayette was watching her intently, eager to memorize her every response. He repeated the motion, slowly, letting his hand move the length of her sex, and was rewarded with a gasp and a rush of heat.

“Adrienne,” he said, keeping his voice low, “I want to kiss you.”

“Stand up, then.”

“No,” he said, failing to hide the smile that crept over his face, “I want permission to kiss you.”

She tilted her head. “You always have permission.”

“Good,” he said, and ducked his head under her skirts.

Adrienne barely had time to register what he had meant before his mouth was on her, biting and kissing the inside of her thighs.

“Gil—“ she gasped, surprised. “What are you doing?”

“You gave me permission,” was his muffled response.

She laughed, a short, little flutter of amusement and embarrassment. “I did not think that was what you had meant.”

“I know,” he said, “but I didn’t think you’d say yes if I told you plainly.”

“I never say ‘no’ to you.”

“I didn’t want you to say ‘yes’ and not mean it.”

Adrienne frowned. When had she ever disagreed with him, even in secret?

“That isn’t fair,” she said.

“It’s not fair that I left, either” he replied, a bit bitterly, his hands sliding over the silk of her bloomers and pressing hard into her thighs. “It’s not fair that I couldn’t be with you. It’s not fair that you are wearing so many damn layers—“

She laughed at his frustration.

He tugged on her bloomers. His hands searched for their ties, desperate to unknot them and pull them down, to feel just her stockings and skin.

“In the front,” she murmured.

He fumbled at the ties. She imagined his hands might tremble, like they did when they were first married, and desire had made him almost afraid to touch her.

This time he was not hesitant. Once undone he pulled the silk down forcefully, biting at the top of her stockings and trailing kisses up her legs. He paused when he met the junction of her hips, and he kissed her lightly there, letting his cheek press for a moment against her.

“Adrienne,” he whispered.

“Yes, my love?”

“You are everything,” he said, and there was something painful in the way he said it, but before Adrienne could react he slipped his tongue between her legs and pressed his mouth against her.

She gasped in surprise and he laughed darkly, hot and breathy against her and she tipped her head back and held as still as she could.

He sucked on her clit and worked her with his tongue, insistently. Her legs shook and he held her tighter, almost bruising her. He was hungry, insatiable, determined in the way he tasted her, spurred on by the little shiver of pleasure that moved through her.

He pushed his tongue inside her, and was gratified with a little moan—the first real noise she’d made so far—and he hummed with pleasure.

“Gilbert, please—“

“Please what?” he asked breathlessly. “Please don’t tell me to stop.”

Adrienne, who had been about to tell him as much, told him instead, her voice trembling and soft, “give me your hand.”

“I can’t hold your hand from down here,” he said regretfully.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” _Oh._ He stopped to catch his breath, his face wet with her, the scent of her. He slid one finger in, slowly, removed it, let out his breath in a hiss.

Adrienne braced herself on the table behind her.

Lafayette repeated the motion, and then again, faster.

She let out a little keening sound.

“Is that not what you wanted?”

She shook her head, realized he couldn’t see, and said, “more.”

He pressed his mouth against her, pushed two fingers into her, deep and hot and soft. He moaned against her skin as he felt her tighten in response.

Encouraged, he moved against her more aggressively, spurred on by the way she said please, over and over and soaked the edge of his cuff with need.

“Gilbert, please, I’m begging you, stop, stop—“

There was a note of panic in her voice and he forced himself away from her, out from under her skirts and sat down hard on the floor, panting. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked up at her, trembling against the desk, her eyes wet.

“Adrienne—“

His voice was so tender that she had to take a slow and shaking breath to keep from crying.

“Oh, Adrienne—“ He scrambled to his feet, wrapped her tight in his arms. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry.”

She—still trembling—wrapped her arms around him, brought his face down to hers and kissed him, hard, bit his lip and laughed when he gasped into her mouth.

“You tricked me,” he said indignantly between kisses. “I wasn’t finished.”

“I didn’t,“ she protested earnestly, her hands slipping over his shoulders and curling into the silk of his cravat. She untied it with a deftness he hadn’t managed to have before, and pulled him closer, unwinding the silk from his neck.

He swallowed dryly, unable to clear the hitch in his throat.

“I really didn’t,” she said again, more insistently. “I just couldn’t—I wanted you up here—“

He kissed her again, firmly, and then bent and lifted her easily into his arms.

“Gilbert—“ Her eyes were wide.

Lafayette carried her across the room and deposited her in their bed.

“You don’t want to wear your corset to bed, do you?” He asked, that grin starting across his face once more. “Better let me help you out of it.”

She tossed a decorative pillow at him. “You’re such a tease.”

“No,” he said, leaning over her so that she was forced onto her back on the duvet. “I like to be very up front about these sort of things.” He pinned her down and began kissing her again, every bit of exposed skin he could find.

“Gil—“ she squeaked, and then laughed. “Didn’t you want me to undress?”

“I can’t wait any longer,” he said, nipping at her ear. “Please, can we just—skip ahead?”

“As you wish,” she said, and hooked her leg around his knee and pulled him flush against her.

Lafayette moaned against her skin, his hips pressing into hers, and even through all her skirts she could feel his arousal.

“Take off your jacket,” she told him, “or you’ll get too hot.”

“Pull up your skirts,” he responded, but did as she said.

She undid the buttons of his breeches, wrapped her hand around him and he moaned and thrust shallowly into her hand.

“Adrienne,” he said, her name coming out in a slow hiss. “Please—“

She laughed. “Well, come on then.”

“Get on your hands and knees,” he instructed, and she was quick to oblige, pulling her skirts up over her hips so he’d have better access.

Lafayette needed no other encouragement. He kissed her cheek and then her neck, biting at the skin, and pushed himself—more aggressively than he’d meant to—into her.

“Oh,” she said, and then repeated herself softly, over and over again as he moved.

He slid one hand from her hip and rubbed at her clit, loving how her voice changed and her body trembled.

“Gil—“ she gasped, her hands crumpling the silk of their bedspread.

“Let go,” he said—and then, just a breath in her ear—“Surrender.”

She whimpered and dropped her head between her shoulders, and Lafayette had to hold her up to keep her from swooning as she came.

Oh—It was almost too much for him. “Turn over.”

She did so and Lafayette kissed her, hungrily, rouge be damned, tilting her hips so that they met his own, and she arched beneath him, her arms around his neck, opening for him like a flower.

“Adrienne,” he murmured against her lips, “Adrienne, Adrienne—“

“Please,” she said breathlessly, “I need you.”

“Need what?” he asked, biting at her neck and increasing his tempo. “More?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes, yes—”

He finally allowed himself to give into to the sight of her twisting beneath him, her eyes held shut and mouth open, wordlessly begging him to come.

It took a long time for the waves of pleasure to finish cresting over him, and he held her close, his voice all but gone and replaced with just his ragged breath in her ear.

Lafayette, still panting with exertion, curled into her side. She pulled him closer, until his head rested on her shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her.

“That was fun,” she said, mirth in her voice as she wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. “Comme les animaux.”

"Mon cher coeur," he whispered, partly to her and partly a refrain he often repeated to himself. "Adrienne, ma vie."

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading their love letters, and they were so passionately in love I wanted to try a piece that explored that tenderness between them. Lafayette is adorable and Adrienne basically worshipped him. (Can't say I blame her!)
> 
> The brief appearance by the Comtesse de Simiane is a bit of historical foreshadowing--she becomes Lafayette's mistress after he returns from the war in the 1780s.


End file.
